Post by coddle the infectionxxx on Mar 5, 2006 20:23:11 GMT -5
[OOC:Alrighty, I'm filling my last spot...]
Name: Darkangel
Age: Unknown
Clan: N/A
Rank: Loner
Description: She is a very oddly colored cat indeed. She is small, with long, silky fur, and her muscles are lithe and smooth. Her tail is long, and her ear’s are sharp, picking p every noise surrounding her. Her claws are dyed an eerie scarlet, and are wickedly long and sharp. Her teeth, white as can be, are also like dagger; razor sharp. She is beautiful, but in a haunting, compelling manner. She carries herself elegantly, and her sparsely spoken words come with a soft, snake like hiss, colder than an arctic rock. Her face is sneering, but the expression does not make her ugly, or repulsive; on the contrary, it makes her even more striking and stunning, if possible. Her pelt is a most unique color, and shines not unlike wet blood. She is snow white, with a black mask covering her eyes, and muzzle. Her ears are tipped in black tones, fading into the white with every shade of grey. Her tail is also edged with ebony black, as well as her paws. Not a spot of brown or any other color is found on her body, minus the golden strands that gild the inky shades of her pelt. Her eyes are a dark blue, and appear black, with royal gold and silver flecks in them. She carries herself with a majestic air; and demands a silent respect.
Personality: Darkangel was named well, and at the same time, most poorly. She is cool and sarcastic, with a barbed tongue and scorching temper. She is the bane of a pleasant cat, though treats everything she comes in contact with, with her arrogant, demeaning manners. She puts up the act of being civilized, and looks down upon ruffians and rude cats, more than she looks down upon the rest of the world. She is clever, and had a whip like reflexes, and an even faster mind. She is stealthy, and ominous; finding out everything she can from others. Ambiguity is her specialty, but at a heavy price. She is rarely nice to another cat, and is harsh with her ample vocabulary, not stopping at any means. She has a hate for noble cats, and though lazy she is ambitious. A loathing for cats that succeed measures to her pure detestation of clan cats. Any kind of clan is at the receiving end of her disdain and revulsion. True hatred for any type of god or spirits quells deep within her; not unlike the vendetta for cats that live their lives by rules. She is cool, and challenging, remaining clam under almost any circumstances. She does not care for company, though she makes a good companion, since her fighting and hunting skills do not lack.
IC: A she cat padded through the forest, cool eyes unseeing. She stopped and then turned; silently awaiting the appearance of what seemed another cat. The ginger tom that ran up to her seemed so innocent in comparison to her jaded presence; nothing shocked the she-cat any longer. And what a she-cat she was. She was spellbindingly beautiful, and the scarred tom never took his eyes off of her.
With their eyes, his light blue ones, her black ones, they had a silent conversation. Not a word was exchanged by the two, but he looked at her pleadingly. He then glanced warily at the dusky sky, but she did nothing. Her chilly expression did not change, and her eyes did nothing but flash warningly. He seemed not to want to speak, or look at her any longer, and winced as voices unheard by the she-cat berated him.
Her eyes cut into him, simply watching and waiting. He looked at her, a beg in his eyes, as his frantic heart began to batter at his ribs. She again did nothing, but watched; waited. His breathing was speeding up, and he was almost panting; flinching at things she did not, and did not wish to see. He whimpered, and shuddered, throwing her glances with a panicked question every now and then. But he was wasting his time. She sat unmoving, simply watching; waiting.
Finally he cried out and turned to run. But before he could, he turned his eyes to her. The blue was so full of sorrow and regret, an overwhelming amount of it. But though she registered him, eyes following his movements, she did not seem to want to answer to his obvious calls. Slowly, she finally turned away, and padded off, but not before looking. Not at the disappearing tom, but at the starry sky. It was a look of withering hate, and pure loathing so deep it was her blood.
Darkangel slipped away; he name forever a reminder of the past, the present, and the future she knew would come.
Password: Winter
Name: Darkangel
Age: Unknown
Clan: N/A
Rank: Loner
Description: She is a very oddly colored cat indeed. She is small, with long, silky fur, and her muscles are lithe and smooth. Her tail is long, and her ear’s are sharp, picking p every noise surrounding her. Her claws are dyed an eerie scarlet, and are wickedly long and sharp. Her teeth, white as can be, are also like dagger; razor sharp. She is beautiful, but in a haunting, compelling manner. She carries herself elegantly, and her sparsely spoken words come with a soft, snake like hiss, colder than an arctic rock. Her face is sneering, but the expression does not make her ugly, or repulsive; on the contrary, it makes her even more striking and stunning, if possible. Her pelt is a most unique color, and shines not unlike wet blood. She is snow white, with a black mask covering her eyes, and muzzle. Her ears are tipped in black tones, fading into the white with every shade of grey. Her tail is also edged with ebony black, as well as her paws. Not a spot of brown or any other color is found on her body, minus the golden strands that gild the inky shades of her pelt. Her eyes are a dark blue, and appear black, with royal gold and silver flecks in them. She carries herself with a majestic air; and demands a silent respect.
Personality: Darkangel was named well, and at the same time, most poorly. She is cool and sarcastic, with a barbed tongue and scorching temper. She is the bane of a pleasant cat, though treats everything she comes in contact with, with her arrogant, demeaning manners. She puts up the act of being civilized, and looks down upon ruffians and rude cats, more than she looks down upon the rest of the world. She is clever, and had a whip like reflexes, and an even faster mind. She is stealthy, and ominous; finding out everything she can from others. Ambiguity is her specialty, but at a heavy price. She is rarely nice to another cat, and is harsh with her ample vocabulary, not stopping at any means. She has a hate for noble cats, and though lazy she is ambitious. A loathing for cats that succeed measures to her pure detestation of clan cats. Any kind of clan is at the receiving end of her disdain and revulsion. True hatred for any type of god or spirits quells deep within her; not unlike the vendetta for cats that live their lives by rules. She is cool, and challenging, remaining clam under almost any circumstances. She does not care for company, though she makes a good companion, since her fighting and hunting skills do not lack.
IC: A she cat padded through the forest, cool eyes unseeing. She stopped and then turned; silently awaiting the appearance of what seemed another cat. The ginger tom that ran up to her seemed so innocent in comparison to her jaded presence; nothing shocked the she-cat any longer. And what a she-cat she was. She was spellbindingly beautiful, and the scarred tom never took his eyes off of her.
With their eyes, his light blue ones, her black ones, they had a silent conversation. Not a word was exchanged by the two, but he looked at her pleadingly. He then glanced warily at the dusky sky, but she did nothing. Her chilly expression did not change, and her eyes did nothing but flash warningly. He seemed not to want to speak, or look at her any longer, and winced as voices unheard by the she-cat berated him.
Her eyes cut into him, simply watching and waiting. He looked at her, a beg in his eyes, as his frantic heart began to batter at his ribs. She again did nothing, but watched; waited. His breathing was speeding up, and he was almost panting; flinching at things she did not, and did not wish to see. He whimpered, and shuddered, throwing her glances with a panicked question every now and then. But he was wasting his time. She sat unmoving, simply watching; waiting.
Finally he cried out and turned to run. But before he could, he turned his eyes to her. The blue was so full of sorrow and regret, an overwhelming amount of it. But though she registered him, eyes following his movements, she did not seem to want to answer to his obvious calls. Slowly, she finally turned away, and padded off, but not before looking. Not at the disappearing tom, but at the starry sky. It was a look of withering hate, and pure loathing so deep it was her blood.
Darkangel slipped away; he name forever a reminder of the past, the present, and the future she knew would come.
Password: Winter
![[F]irekee Avatar](http://www.fruits-basket.fr/avatars/momiji/7.jpg)
w! thats really good!